


Something different

by adraztea



Series: Something else [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-31
Updated: 2011-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-29 15:18:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adraztea/pseuds/adraztea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things are different. Others are not.<br/>Spike is in London. So is Buffy. He just needs to work up the courage to talk to her. </p>
<p>(Sequel/Sort-of-Prequel to "Something better". This can be read by itself, but works better if you read "Something better" first.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something different

**Author's Note:**

> Moving my old stuff over here. This was written in 2011.

The sounds from the street distracted him. Spike didn’t remember London being this busy. Of course, in his days, it hadn’t been. Now it was filled with engines and blaring horns and sirens, just like every other city in the world. The horse carriages of his youth were gone. It was not like he missed it. It was just distracting, walking down a familiar street but not recognizing anything. A bit like looking in the mirror and be surprised at your reflection. 

He pushed the hat a bit to the side. It had a big brim, just big enough to hide his eyes if he tilted his head just a little bit. He leaned his head back and met his own eyes in the mirror. He didn’t remember them being this blue back when… when he was young. And in his mind, his eyes were always just a little bit tentative behind his glasses, waiting for the next setback. He didn’t need any glasses anymore, and he didn’t look unsure of himself. He still felt it, though. 

With a sigh, he turned away from the mirror. He was in London for a reason. To find _her_ , his sunshine, his Buffy. Of course, he knew where she lived, but it wasn’t as easy as that. He still had to find the courage to knock on the door. 

It was so easy slipping back into old habits. To stand just outside the range of her tingling spidey-sense. Back in the days, he had learnt just how close he could stand. There used to be a tree in her front yard, and if he stood right next to it, she didn’t feel him from his bedroom. Two steps forward, and she would open the window and tell him to go to hell. Spike smiled a bit at the memory. She had always had spirit. 

He followed her through the streets of London. She had a bit of a habit. Not every night, but at least three days out of the week, she would leave her flat as the sun set. There were only two cemeteries she patrolled, a big difference from the usual seven of Sunnydale. Not that there was a Sunnydale anymore, he reminded himself. After all, that was the reason he was here. The reason she was here. 

To be honest, there wasn’t a whole lot of action. Usually, she’d just dust two or three vampires. Sometimes only one. He always watched from a distance, waiting to find the guts to approach her. Every morning, as the sky brightened again, he would tell himself that tomorrow, tomorrow would be the night. Every evening, he was back stalking her. 

He was getting bolder, though. Testing the limits, trying to see if she could still feel his presence. Walking just a little bit closer. Once, he sat down at a café he knew she usually visited as the night turned into morning. Waited for her. She came in just as he was about to give up. She walked right passed him, so close he could’ve reached out and touched her. He almost did. She ordered tea, black, no sugar. The way he had served it to her back when he was allowed to be near her, to hold her, to bring her tea. She had turned around as she stood waiting for her order. Suddenly his stomach felt as if it was filled with butterflies. She knew he was there, he was sure of it. Still, he hid his eyes under the brim of his hat, holding his breath. The unfamiliar feeling of his heart going _thud-thud-thud_ in his chest as she walked back outside. The scent of vanilla lingered in the air. 

The next night, he stayed at home, trying to convince himself that it was finally time. To walk up to her door and knock. He couldn’t. What if she didn’t want him? He couldn’t stand the thought. It was easier, he told himself as he looked at his reflection in the mirror, just to be near her. Not knowing. 

The thing that finally changed his mind was not the thing he had expected. He was hanging out in a doorway across the street from her home, as usual, when a car stopped in front of her door. Buffy got out, and then Dawn. Spike stared as the sisters walked the few steps up to the door. _Family._ That was the feeling that echoed through his entire being. These girls were his family. He belonged with them. It was torture staying away. 

Still, he stayed outside. But when Buffy walked out he door, he didn’t follow her. Instead, he crossed the street and slipped inside the door before it closed again. He walked up the three flights of stairs and stopped outside the door he knew was theirs. It was not cowardly, he reminded himself, to talk to Dawn first. It was the wise choice. To see if Buffy wanted to see him again. He raised his hand to knock. Forced his knuckles to meet the hard wood. Three knocks, then he waited. 

“Did you forget your keys again?”

Dawn barely looked up as she opened the door, a book in her hand. He drank in the sight. She was even taller than he remembered, and a little bit older, but she was still his nibblet. She finally looked up. Their eyes met and the book fell to the floor. 

“Hey platelet.” 

He watched her struggle for words. Her eyes filled with tears. 

“Spike?” The word was barely more than a whisper. Then he almost fell backwards, when Dawn threw herself in his arms. 

“I can’t believe it,” she said. “I thought you were dead.” 

“I was.” 

“And now?” 

She let go of him and took a step back, really looked at him.

“Now I’m not,” he answered. “Not at all.” 

The bit had always been smart. Too smart for her own good, sometimes. She stepped inside the threshold. Where she should’ve staid the entire time, if he had had anything to say about it. A girl shouldn’t just step outside when there could be nasties lurking in the hallway. She smiled a bit. 

“That means I don’t really have to invite you in, doesn’t it?” 

He took a step forward. It always felt strange, walking inside someone’s home. He still expected the barrier to be there, to keep him out. He closed the door behind him. Nibblet’s eyes overflowed. She laughed and cried at the same time. Then she stared at him with wide eyes. 

“Does Buffy know? She does, right? You’ve talked to her?”

He shook his head. That old feeling of insecurity crashed right back. If he had a mirror in front of him, he was sure he would see William stare back at him again. The same, familiar anxious eyes. 

“Why not?” Dawn asked, suddenly still. “Don’t you love her anymore?”

The thought of not loving her, of Buffy thinking he didn’t love her, was worse than anything he had ever felt. His heart threatened to give up. 

“There’s no way in hell I could walk this Earth and not love Buffy.” He sank down on the couch. “Dawn, she is everything to me. She is all I think about.”

She sat down next to him.

“Then why haven’t you talked to her? Told her?”

“How could I?” he asked. “After everything… She can’t possibly love me.” 

That was it. The reason he was a coward. He knew the truth; his girl couldn’t love him. Despite what she had said, right before he had died. Love was too much to hope for, but it was all he wanted. 

“You’re stupid.”

He blinked away his tears and stared at Dawn.

“What?”

“You’re stupid. Of course she loves you.” 

“How could you know that?”

“She cried for weeks when you died. And she talks about you in her sleep.”

He couldn’t believe it. It couldn’t be true: it was some evil joke. 

“The best thing that could happen to Buffy,” Dawn continued, “is that you’d come back. She even asked Willow if there was anything to do, to see where you were, if Willow could bring you back if you were someplace bad. And that is not something Buffy takes easily.”

He knew it wasn’t. When you were dead, you were supposed to stay dead, that was her approach. A pretty wise one at that. Dawn got up from the couch and left the room, but she was back a second later with her phone in her hand. She held it out for him.

“Call her.” 

He shook his head before the words were out of his mouth. 

“No. I can’t.” 

“Then I’ll call. She’ll come home, and you’ll see.” 

She dialed the number. Spike heard when Buffy answered on the other end. _“Very busy and unfortunately not slaying.”_

“Good, then you can come straight home.” 

After hanging up, Dawn sat down next to him again and put her arms around him. 

“She’s going to be so happy.”

He hugged her hard. He only hoped she was right. His heart pumped in his chest, reminding him things were different this time.


End file.
